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Updated: June 21, 2025
Now he looked vaguely at the villas of Posilipo, and he realized this thoroughly. Something for her he had done, and something Vere had done. But how little it all was! To-day a new light had been thrown upon Hermione, and he realized what she was as he had never realized it before. No, she was right. She could never live fully in a girl child she was not made to do that.
It was through this ridge of high land that the famous subterranean passage way, called the Grotto of Posilipo, was cut, to open a way for the road into the country without going over the hill.
Vesuvius, its fiery watcher, looks like a kindly guardian, until perhaps the darkness shows the flame upon its flanks, the flame bursting forth from the mouth it opens to the sky; and the coast-line by Sorrento, the lifted crest of Capri, even the hill of Posilipo, appear romantic and enticing, calling lands holding wonderful pleasures for men, joys in their rocks and trees, joys in their dim recesses, joys and soft realities fulfilling every dream upon their coasts washed by the whispering waves.
On the opposite side of the road was a smart little carriage in which the coachman was asleep, with his legs cocked up on the driver's seat, displaying a pair of startling orange-and-black socks. By the socks Artois knew his man. "Pasqualino! Pasqualino!" he cried. The coachman sprang up, showing a round, rosy face, and a pair of shrewd, rather small dark eyes. "Take me to Posilipo."
"To die here, forgotten, alone, happy!..." Ferragut also would like to die in Naples ... but with her!... And his quick and exuberant imagination described the delights of life for the two, a life of love and mystery in some one of the little villas, with a garden peeping out over the sea on the slopes of Posilipo. The dancers had passed down to the lower terrace where the crowd was greater.
Corliss?" she said in an ordinary tone. "Not lived. I've been East once or twice. I spend a greater part of the year at Posilipo." "Where is that?" "On the fringe of Naples." "Do you live in a hotel?" "No." A slight surprise sounded in his voice. "I have a villa there." "Do you know what that seems to me?" Cora asked gravely, after a pause; then answered herself, after another: "Like magic.
As Artois walked along the quay he felt the approach of calm like the approach of a potentate, serene in the vast consciousness of power. Peace was invading the sea, irresistible peace. The night was at hand. Already Naples uncoiled its chain of lamps along the Bay. In the gardens of Posilipo the lights of the houses gleamed.
That little stream the Sebeto, which is indeed, as the courtly Metastasio observes, “scanty in depth of water though overflowing with honour,” may be considered as the boundary line that divides the city of Naples from its eastern environs, although it is evident that the whole stretch of coast from Posilipo to Torre del Greco is covered with an unbroken line of houses.
One of the most notable tunnels constructed by the old Romans was that between Naples and Pozzuoli through the Posilipo Hills. It was excavated through volcanic tufa and was 3,000 feet long, 25 feet wide, and of the pointed arch style. The longest of the Roman tunnels, 3-1/2 miles, was built to drain Lake Fucino.
Then he wrote a short note to Constance from Naples, giving no news, and indeed, scarce speaking of himself at all, but mentioning as an address to which she might write if she wished, the Villa de Angelis at Posilipo.
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